


Collections of Being

by remthedogsitter



Category: Fae Tales - not_poignant
Genre: Experimental, M/M, Other, What Was I Thinking?, objects being self aware, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remthedogsitter/pseuds/remthedogsitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Poigdom week! What if objects were sentient?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Collections of Being

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pia/gifts), [not-poignant](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=not-poignant).



> Instead of writing an AU or a poem like I planned, well the idea crept up on me-- what if instead of characters you explored the thoughts of objects. (Well, go figure as Neil Gaiman says when people ask him where does he get inspiration “I make them up. Out of my head” even though most time we are not aware of our heads coming up with (stupidGENUISwtfOMGWTHBRAIN) unless with let it ‘run its mouth’ so to speak.) I think it’s partly because I personify objects myself? Like I talk to the appliances and other ‘inanimate’ and ‘non sentient’ objects (remember, one should not think one is inclusive of the other).
> 
>  
> 
> So, here you go. Poigdom week prompts told from the perspective of objects.

Day 1: Masquerade

 

**Gwyn**

_I am the forest._

 

A collection of fibers knows, endowed with enough belief from the creature that willed it into being. From a past of sunlight spreading across strains of plants life, from being unmade again within the chew and gut of a wooled creature and entering the world again first as fleece, yarn then into a loom mimicking, creating, becoming, is the universe.

 

Beings are presently after all just collections of galaxies and will.

 

_I am the forest._ This collection resounds it’s will, agreeing with the sentiment despite if it came from within itself or outside of itself. The gentle curls of wood detailing the edges of the forest, quiet and inviting.

 

_I am the forest of this hart._ The collection intones again as it integrates another creature of will into itself, like galaxies colliding where wills become one and become a new collection, a new being. Of leathers and wood pointing outwards and upwards. A cream colored pelt, the knowledge of every forest that ever was and will be intoned in the fibers.

 

A slip of cold metal joins like a floating satellite making its way homeward, forged a different memory, of a planet made of ice, lit by no sun-- it settles low against the hollow of a clavicle. _Yes._ This collection agrees feeling the hum of will, of delight, of pleasure. Because what collection does not enjoy being whole? What collection does not find pleasure in its universe expanding?

 

_I am the forest. I am the hart. I am the hart within the forest._

 

 


End file.
